Guitars, Abstinence, and Honesty
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: "On a scale of screamo to emo, how great do you think Fang will be on this guitar?" - Post Nevermore. One-shot.


Guitars, Abstinence, and Honesty

"On a scale of screamo to emo, how great do you think Fang will be on this guitar?"

"Iggy." Gasman groaned, looking around to see if anyone had heard the older teen. The Gasman had recently hit that phase where anything and everything was embarrassing and damaging to his social identity. "He probably won't even want it."

"Won't want it? The thing that I freaking traded a half drank bottle of Daniels for?" Iggy shook his head. "He's going to want it."

"I still don't see how this helps-"

"Fang is going to learn how to play this, see? And it'll turn Max on, get it? And then bam! Fang and Max get passed this…hump in the road."

"You're not funny."

The two of them were walking down the beach, an old, beat-up acoustic guitar in the blind one's hand. Iggy, after getting yelled at by a very grump Fang about not properly putting out the fire they cooked their breakfast squirrels on (And for the record, Iggy was blind. He shouldn't have to be the one to even fucking put out the fire! What kind of sense did that make?), he had decided to take matters into his own hands. He knew for a fact that Fang and Max had reached a rocky point in their relationship, one in which Fang was getting no relief at all in the most important way. At least not since he and Max had that big fight about whether or not Max was a totalitarian or not. The vibe Iggy was getting from the island though, Max-olini was a definite problem.

"Fang will love this idea, Gasman," Iggy told the younger guy. "If I was having problems, I would love for him to care enough about me to do something like this. When a guy gives up alcohol to help out a friend, then he's a true friend."

"Did you ever think that Fang doesn't want us to help him?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that Fag didn't even tell us there's a problem. And I'm no really clear on why you care if Max and Fang are, you know, doing it or not." Gasman rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly, I'd kind of prefer they weren't."

"I'm not doing it for Fang," Iggy told him. "Not really. I mean, sure, I want Fang to be happy and everything. Life is short and all. But really, I just need him to get his knot out in Max so he can go back to being his normal, moody self instead of this raving lunatic that yells at me for the stupidest of things."

"Ig, you kind of used lighter fluid to start a fire."

"Yeah and then he yelled at me about not cleaning it up."

"You threw the lighter fluid all around. You caught a hut on fire. Fang just wanted you to be more careful. For both of us to be more careful."

"You, my friend, are missing the point."

"I am not. He tried to ban me from ever using anything that could make a bomb ever again. Do you realize that nearly everything could make a bomb?"

"Not a guitar," Gasman mumbled.

"Exactly the point."

"You don't even know your point anymore. God, are you drunk or something?"

"Where did you think half that bottle of Daniels went?"

* * *

"I can't believe they caught the island on fire this morning."

Fang shrugged slightly, hardly even looking over at Max. "I took care of it."

"Good. I wouldn't want to be a, you know, dictator."

"You're definitely not a dick anything."

"Oh, go cry somewhere else, Fang."

The two of then were in their treehouse, Max looking for something that Fang didn't really care about while he was relaxing in their hammock, trying to take a nap. She had woken him up though, coming in all loud and everything. God. It was bad enough that they weren't vibing recently. Did she have to make him sleep deprived as well?

Not saying anything to Max, Fang just laid there for awhile, staring up at the ceiling. He really just wanted Max to get out before she started talking again. She had been annoying him for weeks with this talking stuff. God, you tell your girlfriend one time that she's getting a little bit too crazy with the demands and suddenly you're the bad guy and she won't have sex with you for weeks. Weeks! And then she wanted to boss him around? Yeah right.

"So what exactly did you do to Iggy?" Max asked then as she continued to go through the piles of clothes in the corner of their treehouse. "Fang?"

Fang was slightly concerned with what exactly she was searching for, but was too prideful to just come out and ask. Not to mention, he was trying to go back to old Fang. He had been far too nice for far too long. Asking her how she was feeling, rubbing her shoulders, telling her that no, it was no problem that her mother asked him very personal questions nearly every day. And on top of all that, he was extremely hot. That's right. Fang was sexy. And how dare Max cut him off for telling her the truth. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do? Tell each other the truth? Huh? Huh?

"I just told him that he wasn't allowed to use anything that he could turn into a bomb."

"Yeah, like that's going to do anything. God, Fang, why didn't you just come get me?"

"I'm sorry. Are you bossing me around again?"

"Yeah, you know what, I am. And I'm going to continue to. If you don't like it, there's a bunch of other trees for you to build a house in."

"Why do you always go there, Max? Every time we fight, you tell me I can either accept whatever's wrong or get the hell out. Well guess what, Max? You get out."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Accept my baggage, Max, or you can get out. _I_ rebuilt this treehouse for you. For you. So it's mine."

"You just said it was for me. That means you gave it to me. So it's mine. So get out."

"You get out. It's mine."

"Indian giver."

"That's a horrible thing to say. It's really racist too."

"Oh, so now I'm a racist too?"

"God, Max, I don't know. Are you? Because shockingly enough, I don't have all the answer for you."

"Oh really? That's shocking now? That Fang doesn't know something? Last time I checked, you know little to nothing. At all."

"Ooh. Call me stupid. That's really great, Max. Considering, though, that no one thinks you're a shining orb of intelligence, maybe you should, I dunno, shut the fuck up?"

"What is up with you and thinking that its okay to curse?"

"I'm a man, Max. I can do whatever I want."

"Oh, right. Whatever. You're so full of it, you know that?"

"I'm full of it? Really? Out of the two of us-"

"There is no us currently, Fang, so-"

"Oh, go fuck yourself."

"Excuse me?" Max turned to look at him then, glaring more like it.

"You heard me. You've been on my ass for so freaking long that I'm finally done. I'm done, Max. You're mad at me for telling you that you're a little bossy? Newsflash, you're a lot bossy. Like, God. You do realize that this is basically a dictatorship, right? No one voted you in. And as it stands now, no one wants you in. No one likes you Max. I'm your boyfriend and even I don't like you at the moment."

When she didn't respond, he knew that he had said something wrong. Honestly though? He really didn't care. She had been a total bitch for weeks. Weeks. She even made him sleep on the floor instead of sharing the hammock for awhile. He was really tired of it. Really, really tired.

So they both stayed there for a minute or two, Fang laying there while staring at her, Max's anger melting into something else. And the longer he laid there, the more guilty Fang felt. This was his problem with all of his and Max's fights. She would get that really sad look on her face, as if Fang had crushed her fucking puppy or something. And he couldn't take seeing her upset. That's how come he left in the dead of night that time he took off to start his own flock. Fang had few weaknesses and unfortunately Max was one of them.

It was during their moment of silence though that suddenly they both heard someone land on the deck of their treehouse. Not two seconds later, a voice called out to them. Or, well, one of them.

"Fang," he heard Iggy call out as well as the sound of Gasman coughing. The boy had developed quite the cold as of recent, which was concerning to Max, but Fang was the 'Rub some dirt on it' kind of a guy. "Guess whose bestest buddy just found his bestest buddy the best gift ever? I am gonna get you so laid. Max won't even be able to contain herself when she-"

"Uh, Ig?" Gasman and Iggy came into the treehouse then, the blind one holding his 'gift' in one hand. "Max is kind of-"

"So that's what you do then, Fang?" Max asked then, glancing at Iggy and Gasman before back at her boyfriend. "You tell them about our life? Our very, very personal life?"

"Well." Fang really meant to say more. Really. He just…couldn't. He did do exactly that. Tell others their business. And by others, Iggy. In his defense though, Iggy told him stuff too. Ella was a screamer. Who knew?

…Any and everyone who had ever heard her and Iggy have sex.

"Hey, Max," Iggy said then, laughing his nervous laugh that he gave off whenever Max was about to busted about something. "You're here, eh? In the treehouse? During the middle of the day? How unusual."

"Ig-"

"You know," he began again, cutting her off. "While you are here, I've been meaning to talk to you about some stuff. I really, really, truly love when you've done with foreign affairs recently. Honestly I-"

"I hate all of you," she said simply before moving to shove passed Iggy and the Gasman. "Seriously."

Again, silence befell the treehouse, though that time, Max was not involved. Fang slowly moved to get out of the hammock, taking his time as he waited for Max to storm back in. She did not. With a sigh, he instead focused his attention on his two friends.

"A guitar," Fang said slowly as Iggy nodded his head excitedly, all thoughts of Max's meltdown gone. Gasman had shifted his hands into his pockets and was looking off. Honestly, Fang liked the boy better before this whole puberty shit sprang up. Now he was all moody and weird. And God, Angel was just coming up on that route. Everyone knew that girls were ten times worse than boys. It would be a nightmare.

"Hell yeah I got you a guitar. A pick too." Iggy patted his pocket. "This, my illustrious friend, is what will soon be getting you very, very laid. Maybe by Max, maybe not. Either way, you learn to tickle the ivories here and you'll be swimming in women."

"Uh, Ig, I think that phrase is only used when you play the piano."

"Oh, like I'm supposed to get you a piano too? You're so ungrateful."

Rolling his eyes, Fang reached out to take the instrument from his friend. "If this is an attempt to lessen the blow about you setting fires, it doesn't. Pyromaniac is one thing. Deliberate arsonist is a complete other."

"Just take the gift. A token of our long, long friendship. Our kinship, really. I do it in hopes that you will get to bone that beautiful woman of yours before nightfall. Or any of the island beautiful women! Just not my beautiful women."

"Woman."

Iggy shook his head. "You and your word play."

"Ig, I can't just learn how to play a fucking guitar," Fang said, turning then to walk away from them slightly. "I have no idea how."

"Course you do. It's in, like, the wannabe emo handbook right? Just pick one up, start strumming, and boom! All the wannabe she-emos want to give you blows."

Fang blinked. Then he blinked again. "You, Iggy, have ten seconds to get the hell out of my treehouse."

"Message received. Although I'm not sure why I'm getting kicked out when the Gasman contributed nothing to this Fang gift giving extravaganza while I gave up some of my whiskey."

"You gave up whiskey for this?"

"Your welcome."

"You idiot. I would have rather drank that than had this!"

"You are ungrateful." Iggy made a tsk noise with his tongue. "If we got drunk, Fang-"

"Drunker," Gasman corrected softly.

"-nothing would change. We'd just keep getting drunk," Iggy went on. "This way though, we're doing something proactive. We are proactively getting you laid. You're welcome."

"You just set me back so far with Max that I might not even get a handjob for another twelve years, let alone get laid. I mean honestly."

"You and honesty. It's really getting on my nerves. We could run this island if we wanted. Do whatever we wanted. Yet you're so holed up on Max."

"If I broke up with Max, you do realize that my life would be a literal Hell here, right? And if I hooked up with anyone else, I mean anyone else, she'd kill me. Hon-"

"Shut the hell up about honesty. God."

"Just get out of my treehouse then, Iggy. I've already said it once."

"Fine. Fine!" Iggy snorted. "I'll just take my guitar and-"

"I'm keeping," Fang began, foolishly trying to make eye contact with the blind man, "the guitar."

Iggy grinned then, real big. Then, laughing, he reached out without warning, feeling around for Fang. When he found the man's shoulder, he patted it quickly with another loud laugh.

"Come on then, Gasman," Iggy said, still all giddy and what not as he turned to leave the treehouse. "Let's leave the maestro to do his work."

Gazzy just sighed as he followed his friend out. "You have really got to learn your musical terms."

It was only after they were gone that Fang finally looked over his new found acoustic guitar. It was probably out of tune for all Fang knew. And yes, that was the only thing he knew about guitars, that they went out of tune. And he knew that somehow, you picked up chicks with them. So? What else did he need to know, exactly?

* * *

"Careful," Fang mumbled sleepily. "Fingers are sore."

Max just snuggled into him as she got into their shared hammock. "I don't want to know."

"Guitars, Max. I found someone to help me learn. It's hell on the tips of your fingers though."

"How sore?"

"Don't play me."

"You gonna write me a love song?"

"Definitely not."

"Come on."

He shifted then, careful not to flip the hammock. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

"I was thinking."

"Uh-huh."

"And I thought about how, you know, you don't open up to people easily."

"Okay."

"And if you're actually wanting to tell Iggy about…us, then something must be wrong. And for you to say those things to me-"

"I didn't mean it. I love you."

"You did mean it," she told him. "In that moment, you meant it."

"I was angry."

"You were. Because I wasn't having sex with you."

"No."

"Fang."

"That's not the only reason."

"But it's one of them."

"Well…yeah, honestly it is."

She kissed his clothed chest then before snuggling closer. "You remember when we first got here? Like, after the whole destruction and everything?"

"Of course."

"And how I wouldn't sleep with you? Or whatever?"

"Yeah."

"We were abstinent."

"Max, if this is going where I think it is-"

"It's not. We'll have sex again. Chill."

"Okay." Fang relaxed some, moving his wings slightly as they grew cramped against his back. "Continue."

"I just…" Max sighed slightly. "When we fight, like really, really fight, I can't get away from you. We live together. On an island. With people that, for the most part, I don't really like."

"That's very honest of you."

"Stop saying that word so much."

He let out a loud groan. "Continue."

"It's just you and me for the most part. I mean, yeah, we have the Flock and my mother and Ella and…Jeb as much as I hate it, but besides that, I don't really know anybody."

"You're the one that refuses to make friends."

"I don't refuse," Max said with a frown. "I just…am too busy."

"It's been years, Max."

"Your point?"

"Well, honestly, I think-"

"You're really killing my desire to make up."

"Right. Sorry. Continue.

"You're all I have," Max told him softly then. "And that's what makes it so hard, you know? When we're mad or when you say that, you know, no one loves me-"

"Max, I didn't say-"

"-it gets really tough. I just wish that things were…different."

"Well," Fang said slowly, trying to keep the forbidden word out of his mouth. "They're not. It's me and you, babe. To the end. Which I know sounds insanely hot in a movie, but it's turning out to really suck in real life, huh?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"Tough titties."

That got him a slight hit to the chest. "Behave."

"This is life, Max. Me and you." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "And I am hoping against hope that sex is involved in that, but if it's not, honestly, I don't-"

"Oh shut up." Max closed her eyes then. "You need to save your breath anyways. Rest up. 'cause these panties ain't coming off until I hear at least one verse of my song."

"I'm not writing you a song."

"Then get used to abstinence, bub."

"Bub?"

"You heard me."

"Mmmm." Fang let out a slow groan. "What rhymes with Max? Snacks, backs, tax, racks… Yes! That's the one. Max with the big racks."

She opened her eyes then, just to stare up at his in the darkness. "Do you think that you're helping your case any?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Oh," Max sighed, shaking her eyes. "I think we just made up, bub."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Considering you have yet to stop being an unlovable dictator-"

"Fang-"

"I love you too, silly." Fang kissed her head again. "And I am going to write you the best makeup song ever. Max with wings on her back who has a big rack. A hit in the making, I'm telling you."

"You have, oh, five to ten seconds to before I shove you out of this hammock to knock it off."

"Love you too."


End file.
